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11.21.2012

box full of memories

Thanksgiving
day. It is one of my favorite days of the year. I love the crisp air. I love
the color and crunch of the leaves. I love being with my family at our farm.

Members
of my family have gathered for Thanksgiving at our family’s century-old
homestead for six generations. The song lyrics, “Over the river and through the
woods,” have resonated with me since childhood; even as the river has morphed
into a lake, and the woods have been overtaken by the never-ending march of
humanity.

Thanksgiving
day always elicits so many memories- the earliest revolving around pulley bones
and wishes, the annual haggling over the turkey legs, and the eagerly
anticipated promotion to the adults’ table. Other recollections, formed during
my adult years, encompass early morning searches for decorative leaves and berried
vines, impromptu sporting matches on the front lawn, and long walks down the
lane with youngsters and pets in tow. And of course, there is the most
unforgettable memory of all- the image of our deflated turkey emerging from the
oven, nothing but a gooey mass of grey matter. Although I had never been a fan
of retail establishments being open on the holidays, that Thanksgiving I was truly
thankful for the lone, local grocer who opened his doors for a few brief hours.
All and all, the smoked chicken was quite tasty, and from my culinary
perspective, a nice change of pace.

It
was perhaps these memories, in combination with a publication’s submission
proposal, that led me to the creation of some simple favor boxes this year.
After considering some other creative options, I concluded that these small
tokens would be perfect for sharing additional family keepsakes, favorite
holiday memories or recipes, or even a delicious sweet treat. Moreover, I could
imagine them eliciting bouts of reminiscing, a simple tool for enlightening younger
generations about our long lineage and those loved ones no longer present. Crafted
from petite, paper soap sleeves I collect from hotels or form from a template,
they can be decorated in any number of ways. In this instance, I decided to
utilize family photographs and heirloom findings for decoration, as well as
scrapbook paper, ribbon, hemp cord, and even recycled linen strips garnered
from a pair of well-worn trousers. The image you see is one I dearly love, even
if it is almost faded beyond recognition. It features my father, as an infant,
positioned in front of a great, old oak tree on our farm. My father has been
gone for nearly eighteen years, but the oak still stands, broken and disfigured from a debilitating lightning strike.

As time has passed, our Thanksgiving table has become smaller and smaller due to aging, illness, relocation, and the inevitable deaths. Additional absences have been due to reasons as benign as extracurricular school activities that do not permit traveling. I wonder if earlier generations were faced with similar or other obstacles for communing on this day set aside for thanksgiving and gratitude? I hope not. I would like to think that those who struggled so diligently to provide many of the gifts I am most thankful for, particularly the farm, had this beautiful fall day to rest and rejoice in the fruits of their labor. I hope, too, that those who follow me will find a moment in this frenetically paced society to forge new memories in this aged place. Surely this business of life can allow us one day . . . to be thankful . . . together.